


Caught in the Act

by walking_tornado



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6396391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_tornado/pseuds/walking_tornado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam catches Dean having sex with a pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in the Act

The first time was outside a rest stop in Kansas. 

"Here." Sam plopped the brown paper takeout bag on the picnic table. The table, with its peeling paint and graffitied surface, shifted and creaked ominously as Sam sat down across from Dean.

"Took you long enough," Dean said, as he divvied up the contents.

"Yeah, well there's a tour bus or something. Long lines at the diner. But hey, I got you pie, or the closest thing they had."

Dean pulled out the pie—more of a massive fruit turnover than a true pie—and grinned at Sam. "I love this place."

"The kid at the counter said their turnovers won some sort of state prize. Best or biggest, or something like that."

"Shit, Sammy, look at it! Fuckin' perfection!" Dean's eyes widened in delight as he eased the large pastry out of its paper wrapping. Steam rose from it, and Dean bounced it from one hand to another in a way that took off at least twenty years. Sam snickered and shook his head as he tucked into his own meal. Dean put his pie aside to cool off and picked up his own burger. They ate in silence, enjoying the day's pleasantly crisp air in the wake of last night's thundershowers. 

When he'd finished, Dean walked halfway towards the garbage bin and tossed his balled-up wrappers, basketball-player style. He missed by a wide margin and casually flipped off Sam, pre-empting whatever smart-ass comment Sam was going to make. 

"Going to hit the head, then we can take off," Dean said, but two steps towards the diner he froze. "Tourist buses, you said?"

"Yep," Sam nodded. "Two of 'em. Some kind of seniors' trip." When Dean still hesitated, Sam added. "Place has one toilet." 

Dean grimaced and turned towards the woods nearby. "Be right back."

Sam grinned and looked at Dean's pie, still cooling on the table. Within an easy arm's reach. The possibilities were endless and—

A hand reached out to snatch the pasty away as Sam's hand twitched forward.

"Nuh-uh," Dean said. "Mine." Sam shrugged and put on his best expression of innocence. Dean just snorted and made his way towards a thick outcropping of trees, where he would be hidden from passersby.

Sam finished eating, cleaned off the table, and spread out a large map. It was much easier to see their whole route spread out like this than the contorted origami map manoeuvres he'd been doing in the Impala. Nodding in satisfaction that they should only be another hour on the road, Sam refolded the map, and stowed everything in the car again. He slid into his seat but left the car door opened as he waited, bouncing his knee. 

Dean seemed to be taking an inordinately long time. Sam glanced around the parking lot, scanning for anything obviously out of place. With forced calm, he reached into the glove compartment and surreptitiously slid Dean's revolver under his shirt before walking, ever so casually, in the direction Dean had taken.

As Sam rounded the patch of trees, he spotted Dean. He was about to call out, but something about Dean's posture made him pause. Dean stared downward with his mouth hung open. His whole body vibrated but only his arm moved in short, quick rhythm.

Sam froze in surprise. "Oh!" The exclamation escaped him, but it was quiet enough that Dean, still lost in the moment, hadn't heard. Sam took a step backwards, intending to slip away unnoticed, but his foot snapped a twig. Dean looked up, turning his body as he did so, giving Sam a clear look at what had so preoccupied him.

Sam had expected to see Dean's hand wrapped around his cock—after all, they both had needs, and tripping over each other in motel rooms didn't allow for much privacy, though Sam tried, as best he could, _not_ to think of Dean and cocks at the same time, to maintain some semblance of boundaries. But instead he saw Dean's hand wrapped around the turnover, saw the rocking of Dean's hips as he moved the pastry to meet each quick thrust, saw the shine of the apple pie filling that coated Dean's cock when Dean slid the turnover away only to disappear as he slid it towards him again, saw the glistening head of Dean's cock as it peeked out the other end of the sticky mess.

Sam stared. Dean's eyes widened as he saw Sam, and Dean's mouth dropped in surprise just before his eyes fluttered closed and his hips gave a final shudder as he came. Dean sagged back against a tree, hand still on his pastry-wrapped dick, and looked at Sam. Sam saw Dean catch his lip in his teeth as he waited for whatever Sam might say. But words escaped Sam, who only blinked at his brother before he turned around and walked back to the Impala.

They didn't talk about it, and the hour it took to reach their destination seemed to never end.

***

The second time, it was supposed to be a joke, but Sam later figured he should have known better.

Dean had just closed the bathroom door when Sam left for his jog. When he returned, the bathroom door was open and a layer of condensation covered the motel windows. Dean exited the bathroom, shirtless and with his open jeans slung low on his hips, showing his underwear—grey SAXX, the same kind Sam preferred. Sam frowned.

"Those my underwear?"

Dean stopped towel drying his hair and shrugged. "Yeah. Don't have any clean ones left. And yes, I checked and there's a laundry machine just off the manager's office that we can use—"

" _You_ can use."

"Whatever. I'll get to it after breakfast. What did you rustle up?" 

Sam passed Dean a large container from the plastic bag he carried, and he removed an identical one for himself. "Usual. Eggs, bacon, toast." Dean nodded in satisfaction as he opened it, took a little plastic fork from Sam and sat on the edge of his bed to eat. 

"Oh," Sam continued, and Sam's mouth quirked in a masked smile as he tried for a straight face, "and this." He pulled out a square box, larger than the others, and placed it next to Dean. Dean raised an eyebrow but shoved in another mouthful of eggs then put aside his breakfast to open the box.

"Cherry's your favorite, right?" Sam said, failing to contain his grin at Dean's shifty-eyed expression. They hadn't spoken of yesterday's incident, but it didn't mean Sam was going to let it slide.

Sam tugged off his sweat-soaked shirt, and tossed it on his unmade bed. "I going to grab a shower before I eat." He walked towards the bathroom before Dean could think of something to say. Sam's shower wasn't nearly as long as Dean's, but as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, holding his towel around him, Sam suspected it had been too long. Dean's usual cockiness was back, and Sam's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What?" Dean said, but he didn't bother hiding the smug grin. He picked up his duffle of dirty laundry and opened the motel room door. Then he looked back at Sam and his eyes twinkled. "Loved the pie, Sam. Thanks. And sorry if your half's a bit banged up."

As the door shut, Sam looked over at the pie. Dean had eaten half of it, and left the other half for Sam. From where he stood, the middle seemed pretty battered. Pie wasn't really Sam's thing, and it wasn't like Dean to leave him any. 

He'd look at it after he got dressed.

Still wrapped in a towel, Sam walked over to his bag to pull out his clothes. He grabbed what should have been the last of his clean boxer briefs, but pulled his hand back with a grunt of surprise as his hand closed over something sticky. He smelled the cherry filling that now covered his hand, and then he pinched the corner of his boxers to lift them up. The smudged cherry showed clearly where Dean had used Sam's underwear to wipe off his. . . Sam returned to the pie and looked closer, and that's when he saw it. In the center of an otherwise clean cut, a deep hole had been punched into the filling, a hole about the diameter of Dean's erect cock. Sam's eye widened as he saw the white filling Dean had left, which showed up clearly against the red cherry. 

Sam felt his mouth turn up in a bemused smile. He shouldn't, Sam supposed, be surprised by Dean's reaction to his teasing. With Dean there was always an escalation, but Sam wondered why it looked so much like an invitation.

***

The third time, Sam was onboard.

"Dean, slow down!"

"What part of them not catching us did you miss?" Dean said through clenched teeth. 

Sam turned around and scrutinized the road behind them. "We lost them a ways back, and we passed the state line," Sam said. "But keep this up and the local police with a radar gun will get involved."

"What the hell happened, Sam?" Dean said, not for the first time, but this time he actually seemed to expect an answer. Sam rubbed his temples.

"I don't know. I was distracted. It just. . . " Sam sighed. "I messed up, okay?" He knew Dean threw looks his way, but steadfastly refused to look anywhere but at the passing scenery. Finally Dean sighed.

"It wasn't just you. I lost hold of the crowbar and gave it a chance to get in, and I think it tripped the sensor. At least we killed it, even if we left a mess behind."

Sam's phone rang. He looked at the display—unlisted, of course—and answered. "Yeah?"

He listened while another hunter filled him in on the cleanup. "Okay, thanks. We owe you one." He put down the phone.  
"Well?" Dean asked.

"It's taken care of. Our people got to its body before the locals found it." Sam rolled his head from side to side, loosening the tension that had built up, and then letting his shoulders sag down. 

"Okay, lets stock up on supplies before heading to the bunker."

Dean pulled into the next grocery store they passed. When Sam had placed the last of their purchases on the counter, Dean added a small, plastic-wrapped pre-cooked apple pie, as if daring Sam to object. Sam swallowed but said nothing. 

Sam continued to say nothing until they began unpacking in the bunker's kitchen. But when he pulled out Dean's pie, he his hand tightened, and he turned around to Dean, who was humming Black Sabbath, and held out the pastry between them.

"Explain the pies, Dean," he said.

Dean studied him for a moment and then shrugged. "Nothing to say. Private business, Sam." 

Sam let out a huff of laughter. "Why pies?"

"Why not," Dean said, dismissively, but then seemed to think better of it, and he took a deep breath before saying. "What do you want me to say? I like pie. I like sex." He spread his arms wide, indicating the spacious, echoing bunker. "Look around. Not exactly the best place to find a willing partner."

"Yeah, but there are other—"

"Plastic. Rubber. It's not the same."

"Oh? And this is?"

"Don't knock it. . ." Dean said, with a quirked eyebrow. "You wanted an explanation, so listen." He snatched the pie away from Sam, unwrapped it, and put it into the microwave.

Sam made a hand waving motion for Dean to continue. 

"This will do, if you warm it up a bit, but the frozen ones are better," Dean said, "because then you can cook them as much or as little as you want. You need to bake them enough that you can hold them and they remain firm, but before the crust becomes hard, 'cause that can scrape sometimes—but sometimes that's part of what makes it interesting," Dean added. The microwave beeped and Dean took out the pie and placed it on the counter between them. "Most of them have this little slit at the top, and you want to widen it, just a bit." As he spoke he grabbed a kitchen knife from the knife block to demonstrate. "Like that." Dean dipped a finger into the slit to test the temperature. 

Dean closed his eyes and slowly licked his finger clean. Sam, open-mouthed as he watched the show, caught his breath when he realized Dean had dropped the other hand and had freed his cock, which jutted before him. Sam's pants were now very confining, but he seemed to have lost the brainpower for complicated skills like releasing zippers. And Dean was moving again, which took all of Sam's concentration.

Dean held the pie in front of him, upright like a shield, and lined himself up with the slit. "And yeah, I like cherry, but apple. . ." He pushed carefully in until the head of his cock was engulfed. Sam could see a bulge in the bottom crust and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Dean withdrew until he only barely touched the opening, and then slotted himself in again. When he continued, his voice held a hint of breathlessness. "With apple there are these large chunks of fruit, and when you push past them, they rub . . . ah." Dean trailed off. One of Dean's large hands had come around to steady the bottom crust as and he popped through in a perfect bulls eye. His hips pushed forward even as he pulled the pie in towards him, skewering it. 

Now that he had burst through the last barrier his hips punched forward in short fast bursts. He came with a yell, shooting his load towards Sam, and his last thrust crushed the pastry, leaving a goopy sticky mess between his legs, and over his hands. With visibly shaky legs, Dean took a couple staggering steps backwards, hobbled in part by his pants that had slid down during his exertions until he leaned against the counter. Dean cast his eyes towards Sam, waiting, as chunks of pie fell off his cock onto the floor. 

"Hey, Sam," Dean panted. "You want some?" Dean flashed a smile that Sam suspected was supposed to be look confident. 

Dean appeared stunned when Sam immediately sank to his knees.

Sam licked all trace of apple from Dean—small, kitten licks to catch all of the pastry remnants without letting too much fall; pointed, probing licks to work all the flavor from cracks and crevasses; and long, sweeping passes of his tongue to elicit that particular hitch in Dean's breath that Sam could quickly become addicted to—until Dean was hard and ready once more, and Sam was near bursting. Sam swallowed him down, taking him as far as he could, and for Sam, the taste of Dean became forever linked with that of apple pie.

end


End file.
